Reverse Psychology
by animegus farmus
Summary: Who's your daddy?...Sigh, now a two-shot.
1. Reverse Psychology

_Disclaimer: Do not own Tin Man, those with problem may kiss my broken butt. Okay, so maybe it's just a badly bruised butt, the sentiment remains._

_Author's Note: Insanity is my only excuse, that and maybe lack of sleep._

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...

Tin Man Wyatt Cain was on the verge of going absolutely, positively no ends barred bug crazy nuts with a fit of postal behaviour on top. That he had no idea what any of these Otherside terms meant had absolutely no effect on his mental landscape. He'd been pushed beyond the bounds of paranoia, was one twitch short of a violent seizure, and was a mere thought away from a complete and utter meltdown. This had to stop, it was driving him mad, it was entirely unnatural, something had to change.

DG was behaving herself.

If he told her she was needed in magic lessons, she went; if he told her to pay attention to the council meetings, she did - she could even repeat what had been said; worse still, if he told her not to do something, she _didn't._ It just wasn't _right._ He couldn't handle this, whether an imposter or possessed, this was _not_ the DG he knew. Unless she was up to something...except she couldn't be because she'd even obeyed a purposely tyrannical order not to stray out of the guards' sight. And now that he'd gone to confront her about her actions, where did he find her? In the garden with Raw learning to sit still, be quiet and meditate. Right where she was supposed to be. Enough was enough.

"Princess," Cain growled, stomping through a defenceless flowerbed and disturbing the tranquility of nature, "_what_ are you doing?"

"Learning to focus so that I may better let the light flow through me," the youngest princess of the O.Z. replied serenely.

The Tin Man eyed her narrowly. "I thought you wanted to sneak off to see the fair that's setting up outside the city."

"You told me not to," DG replied simply.

"And since when do you listen to what I say?" he fired back.

"Since you pointed out that you were old enough to be my father," she answered obediently.

Cain felt his blood pressure rise just ever so slightly. "Please _explain_ that statement," he gritted out.

"I'm just trying to be a dutiful daughter..."

"_What?"_ the Tin Man exclaimed, thunderstruck.

"Well," she replied innocently, "I just wanted to show how sorry I was for the misunderstanding. I mean, I thought I was pretty well stocked up in the father department, but if you want to be added to the paternity I figured I could accommodate you. I have a biological daddy and an adoptive robot daddy already, but I see no reason why you couldn't be my sugar daddy," she continued sweetly as Cain turned an alarming shade of red. He had no idea what sugar had to do with anything but there was that word 'daddy' again. "I supposed I should set up a schedule," the princess mused, apparently oblivious to the outraged choking of the Tin Man, "that way I can make sure everyone gets their fair share of father-daughter ti-_ulp_," she cut off abruptly...

...mostly because Cain was darn near crushing her in an entirely ruthless – and heated – embrace, decidedly carnal and not familial at all. Also quite extensive. "I," he uttered in a growling rumble when he finally decided to release her, "am _not_ your father."

"Noted," DG commented dazedly, swaying slightly on her feet, "Do I have to go to my room now?"

The Tin Man let out a strange sound that was part frustrated gurgle and all infuriated howl and stormed away, his hands tearing at his fedora, undoubtedly looking for something or someone to shoot.

"DG devious," the forgotten Raw remarked, watching the discombobulated Cain fling himself through the palace doors.

"DG take psychology course," the princess returned, a dangerous twinkle in her blue eyes, "learn much, get hot man," smirking maliciously she added, "'Much too old' had it coming."


	2. Freudian

_Disclaimer: __Hyperactive-disclaimer-of-not-owning-this-because-I-don't,don't,don't._

_Author's Note: Before anyone gets any ideas, this is not saying, in any way shape or form that this here pair of ficlets is turning into any sort of story or series of ficlets; _this_ is what happens when Cain pisses me off. Oh yes, the Tin Man had the nerve to block my muse on a story it's been bugging me to write for months, and at four attempts in, _that_ is declaring war. Some lines even the Tin Man shouldn't cross, especially when I have story ammo at hand._

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...

Tin Man Wyatt Cain was _not_ on the verge of a nervous breakdown, he was _not_ one big walking danger zone, and he had _not_ reached a state of twitchiness so acute that paranoia was now paranoid of him. He denied all reports of being so quick on the draw he'd almost shot half the castle staff for smiling at him, sneered at any and all implications that he was rapidly losing it, and had _not_ tossed someone off a balcony just for giggling at the wrong moment. Wyatt Cain was _perfectly_ in control.

He was just having trouble sleeping.

And it had absolutely _nothing_ to do with his dreams. Or the fact that a certain princess was in them. The dreams he'd been having ever since the time he had kissed the youngest princess, which had been a reaction to extreme mental duress and did _not_ mean that he...that he might...that had _anything_ to do any with feelings of, er, tenderness or l-l-l...or any kind of caring beyond caring and absolutely non-fatherly affection. Of the platonic sort, because Cain unequivocally did _not_ believe anyone's theories regarding dreams as wish fulfilment, _especially_ not those of the fellow with the unhealthy, not to mention disturbing, fixation on his own mother. And he most certainly was not avoiding DG because of them.

Even if he had dreamed of kissing her once or twice...a night...every night...for the past month. Or two. Maybe three. He didn't know for sure because he wasn't thinking about it, not about dreams of kissing the youngest princess, or more than kissing the princess, and _especially_ not about last night when-

Raw, taking a corner too fast, bumped right into the Tin Man, who definitely was _not_ in the midst of remembering something that, at the thought of it being transmitted to the Viewer, made him blush a deep and brilliant red. Like a fire truck. On fire. You know; the kind of image that would make ones hairy friend turn an interesting shade of purple in embarrassment.

"Ah," coughed Raw.

"Ungh," Cain managed in a strangled kind of grunt.

"Hey guys," DG chirped cheerily as she rounded the corner after Raw, "what's up?"

Tin Man Wyatt Cain most emphatically did _not_ squeak at the sight of the princess, nor did he flee from her presence, it was just suddenly found that he had extremely urgent business on the far side of the palace that had to be attended to immediately. And he'd had something stuck in his throat.

There was a momentary silence.

"DG cheats," commented Raw as the Tin Man darn near broke the sound barrier taking the far stairs at a sprint.

"DG is always getting told to 'let the light flow through her'," the youngest princess remarked innocently, "it is not _her_ fault that it keeps on flowing with her dreams right down the hall."


End file.
